[ Hey, everybody! This Fanfic takes place during the Conqueror of Shamballa movie. Edward is trapped on the other side of the gate with Alfonse Heiderich and Noa (who doesn't make an appearance.) Everything that happens in the movie is happening in the background – just off-camera. It's been a while since I watched the movie so the dialogue and action doesn't match exactly – but I hope you enjoy it anyway.]

(Ed Calls Winry)

Edward flicked on the lamp. The room was dark and cold, but he didn't feel he had the right to complain. He slumped onto the bed, fully clothed, with his boots and coat on. Everything was cold. The sheets, the pillow, the frost on the windowpane…the room was like a silent grave. More like a death chamber than a place for someone to stay.

He thought of Al. He thought of golden-brown eyes and blonde hair, of the way Al used to cross his arms and pout when he was a little boy. It had been a long time since Edward had seen him do that. It was harder to pout when you were over six feet tall and in a suit of armor. He remembered how Al used to stay up late into the night, writing in that journal of his. Edward wondered if Al was finally getting to eat all the food he had dreamed of eating.

He thought of Winry. He had used to hate it when Winry fixed his automail because he didn't like sitting still, and he didn't like getting lectured about automail maintenance. But now he missed it. Edward couldn't feel it when people touched his automail, but sometimes Winry's fingers would brush the skin on his shoulder, or the side of his chest. She used to hit him over the head whenever he would fidget. He could definitely feel that.

Once Winry had brushed the hair off his neck and pointed to a small scar on his collarbone. It was a new one, one that hadn't been there before. She had asked about it, but Edward refused to say. After that she had stopped asking about his scars. But she still had that habit of putting her hand on his back while she adjusted his automail.

Edward squeezed his eyes shut and put a hand over his face, blocking out the light coming from the lamp. Something was clawing at the inside of his chest, trying to get out. He gritted his teeth and held it in.

The phone rang. Edward hadn't even realized there was a phone in his room, but when he opened the desk drawer, he found it sitting there, ringing like an annoying little bug. Edward stared at it for a few minutes, and when it didn't stop, he answered it.

"Yes?"

It was a man who called himself Alfonse Heiderich's doctor, saying that Alfonse needed to come and pick up his medication tomorrow. Edward took the message and the man's phone number and then hung up. He was about to lie back down when he realized what the doctor had said. Medication? Did that have something to do with Alfonse's coughing? He decided to call the doctor back and figure out what was wrong with Alfonse.

Edward dialed the number. The phone had just started to ring when he realized he'd put in the wrong number entirely.

He had dialed Winry's number. His fingers had somehow done this naturally, and without him noticing, almost as if this were just a normal night and he had decided to call up Winry. This is what he'd meant about his brain being a step behind. Living in the past. This wasn't healthy.

"Rockbell Auto-Mail Shop, how can I help you?"

He could hardly hear anything, the blood was pounding so loudly in his ears. He stared at the phone as if it had bitten him. He set the phone lightly down on the nightstand – against the wood, so it didn't hang up. Then he paced in a tight circle around his room. He went back to the phone, picked it up. His throat was dry.

"Win…ry?"

There was a gasp on the other line. The sound was distinctly female. She had hardly said anything, but he recognized her voice. He recognized the sound of her dropping the phone. He recognized the sound of her scrambling to pick it up. And he recognized the sound of her scream.

"YOU IDIOT!"

"Winry," he said.

"YOU ARE THE BIGGEST MORON ON THE PLANET!"

"Winry." He closed his eyes, felt the cold of the phone against his cheek.

She was crying now. He could hear it in her voice. She said his name, quietly, like a whisper, like a breath of air. "Edward."

"Winry." He couldn't stop saying it. Her name. That feeling was pounding in his chest again; that breathless, dizzying, overwhelming feeling. But it wasn't pain in his chest anymore. It was something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I knew you were alive. I knew it. I always have." She paused. "But I know it can't possibly be you. Because the Edward Elric I know has never once picked up a phone to call me. Not once in his life, no matter how many times I begged."

He was grinning now. He wished she could see it. "Sometimes things change."

"Oh, Ed." In his mind's eye he could see her blue eyes shining with color, the tears sliding down her face, and the way her bangs fell across her forehead. He had seen her cry enough times in the past to know exactly what it looked like. "Ed, is this really happening?" she asked. "Am I really talking to you?"

"Yes, it's really happening." He sat down on the bed, phone firmly clutched in his hand. "I just…I dialed your number and this happened."

"I find that hard to believe," she laughed.

"Me, too." They laughed together. Then he stopped. "How…how have you been?"

There was a long silence. He could hear Winry take a deep breath. "I miss you."

Edward said nothing. He closed his eyes and nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see.